Free Dial Om for Murder by Diana Killian

to you.”
    “Great!” A.J. said brightly, rising. “I’ll look forward to those. Talk to you later.”
    She returned hastily to her office and tried deep breathing exercises until she was feeling lightheaded. Probably more lightheaded than calm, but it was a start. She choked down a cup of green tea and reminded herself that it was probably just as difficult for Lily to make concessions for her as it was for her to make concessions for Lily. She told herself that Lily probably had no idea how obnoxious her behavior was. She told herself this several times. Then she got back to work.
    The morning passed quickly as mornings at Sacred Balance always did.
    Andy arrived around eleven thirty, and Suze showed him into A.J.’s office.
    “Wow,” he said a little grudgingly. “I guess I understand why you decided to give up freelancing. This is really nice.”
    “It is,” A.J. agreed. “I still have to pinch myself some mornings. I loved the first years we were in business together. I loved the challenge of building our client base and landing big accounts, but . . .”
    “You burnt out,” Andy said.
    “It’s such a cliché, but I think I did. It didn’t . . . feed my soul.”
    Andy didn’t say anything. His expression puzzled A.J. Even more than she, he had thrived on the stress, the challenge, the risk of running their own business. Now she wondered if somewhere along the line that had changed for him as well. He did look better today. More relaxed and rested. Perhaps the weekend in the country had done him some good—although he was still limping very slightly.
    “Are we still on for lunch?” he asked.
    “Sure. Why don’t I give you the grand tour first?”
    Andy affirmed, positive and accommodating as ever, and A.J. gave him a quick guided tour through the three-story building. He made all the right noises and approving faces—until they reached the top level.
    “Showers on the third floor,” he commented. “ That is so Diantha. She’s the only person I ever met who believed willpower could defeat gravity.”
    A.J. knew what Andy meant, and it was a little unusual to have showers on the third floor.
    “You have to admit, it is beautiful up here,” she pointed out. “All these windows looking down over the trees. Just clouds and sunlight and water. It’s a lovely experience showering here.”
    “It’s the flying squirrels you have to convince, not me.”
    A.J. grinned, because Andy’s reaction was very much what her own had initially been.
    They finished the grand tour, and A.J. directed Andy into town and the Happy Cow Steak House, which was one of Stillbrook’s nicer places to dine. They had a brief wait in the lobby and Andy scrutinized the waitresses dressed like French maids, the bordello-crimson furnishings, and the sentimental Victorian paintings while the dimple that indicated private amusement creased his cheek.
    “How perfect,” he murmured, once they had been seated and were glancing over the menus. “ They even have a meat bar.”
    “I know what you’re thinking,” A.J. said. “But there are trendy places in New York and London and Tel Aviv that offer meat bars.”
    “But do they offer elk sausage with Madeira wine? Or appetizers made from smoked alligator?”
    A.J. tried not to laugh. “They do a really nice filet mignon here,” she informed him. “ That’s all I know. I’m trying to eat less red meat.”
    “You could try the ostrich burgers,” Andy said. “I hear it’s the new white meat.”
    A.J. laughed, but then her gaze fell on a petite red-haired woman sitting by herself at a table across the room. She sucked in a breath.
    “Got a look at the prices, did you?” Andy inquired, his own gaze fastened on the red-bound menus.
    “Don’t turn around,” A.J. said sotto voce. “I think I just recognized the woman sitting on her own at the table near the window.”
    Andy’s elegant brows rose. He stared at the long mirror hanging on the wall opposite. “ The one